Twice Serene

​This week’s Mustard Seeds finds a similar feeling in two very different times. We planned our one week stay in Corfu. We weren’t on our way to anywhere. We weren’t doing anything other than being there. We met with friends, lazed in the sun, and wandered about. We saw whatever sights we happened to see. We stayed longer or shorter in each place as the spirit moved us. The days were sunny and warm, the food was great, and the people were friendly.
On the night before we departed, as I strolled alone along the seawall, I noticed a golden aura emanating from below. I ventured down to its source. Light from hundreds of candles escaped through a glazed door to dance out to sea. Inside the cavern a multitude of icons and statues of Mother Mary shimmered in the flickering glow. I stood amid the images, deep in contemplation. I can't say how much time passed as I visited. The peace was profound.
    The next morning my sister and I took final advantage of the shower in our friends’ hotel room. We had a quick breakfast and caught the ferry to Patras. We bid our friends adieu as we approached the dock. We disembarked and headed to Athens.
    While making our rounds through Athens’ obligatory sights we happened to follow a rather heavy woman as she waddled down from the Acropolis. Everything about her was incongruous. She wore shiny black shoes with tall spike heals, a white polyester dress with large purple polka dots and broad-brimmed straw hat with a wide navy ribbon. She announced in her heavy Brooklyn accent, “I don’t like it here. Everything is broken. All you see is ruins, ruins, ruins.” Even her presence was odd.
     After far too little time in Athens and late on a Thursday evening we continued our eastward trek. A little over an hour out of Athens our van slowed to barely a crawl. I pulled over at the next safe spot. “What are we going to do now?” my sister asked.
    “Sleep.” There wasn’t much else to do. The next morning I tried starting the engine — not even a sputter. My sister waited with our van as I headed for help. We hadn’t passed any towns since leaving Athens so I decided to press forward. As I crested the first hill I saw a collection of buildings a short distance on. There, atop a pole, a familiar yellow scallop shell marked my destination.
    Between the Shell station attendant’s broken English and an impromptu game of charades I conveyed our problem. He hopped in his tow truck, brought our van into the shop, and began tinkering. A few hours later he pushed our van out of the service bay and went back inside to work on another car. Another man drove up shortly. The mechanic came out, pointed to us, and the two approached. The stranger summarized the mechanic’s diagnosis and remedy in fairly good English.
     The engine had been patched together from bits and pieces. The two cylinder heads didn't match, the four piston included three varieties, and some type of goop had been used to seal the engine rather than the proper gaskets.
    The mechanic handed me a paper. I stared blankly at the Cyrillic scrawls. Our interpreter told us the address of a parts supplier headed the sheet and the long list below itemized necessary parts. I had to wait until Monday, take a bus to Thessaloniki, fill the list, and return. All costs, including labour, remained unknown.
    There was nothing we could do through the weekend. What would be would be. We wandered about the town trusting all would be well. We almost despaired of finding anything interesting to do when things suddenly got quite lively. There was a wedding in town. The reception was in a field just across from where our van was stranded. A man came and bade us join the celebration. As we sat enjoying the food, listening to the music, and watching the dancing I felt very much at ease.
    In Corfu things went as intended. There were no worries on our horizon. In Livanates things were definitely not going as intended. There were plenty of very immediate worries. In Corfu I found serenity in comfort. In Livanates I found serenity in surrender. 
     Next week: On to Istanbul.
                                                         God bless.

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